Caution: Pit of Wonder
by Aryatat
Summary: Jack has had an unfortunate run-in with Summer. Now he hast to stop himself from melting while he tries to bring winter in time for the Christmas season. Meanwhile, something dangerous is stirring deep beneath the Pole. Disclaimer: I do not own RotG.
1. Delirium

**Okay...hello world. I've never done this before so I'm not sure how It'll turn out. In general I apologize in advance for all formatting mistakes you may see that I will later bang my head against my desk over. I've also never actually seen ROTG. Just watched clips from YouTube and read fanfic. In addition, I have no sense of grammar, correct spelling (have no fear though, spellcheck is here!), or punctuation. Sorry, there's simply no hope for me.**

**This will be rated T, although in actuality some (or most) of the chapters will be rated K. The reason why I say this is because I have no plan for this story, at all. I don't even know if I'll expand this beyond a one-shot or not, but I want to. The course of this story ultimately depends on the response I get, but like I said, I want to continue this so even one encouraging review will probably keep me going. I really just want to know if I should be wary of mobs with pitchforks coming to throw rocks at my windows (or worse, steal my cake) or if I should prepare for a long and hard season trying to crank out a complete story for you guys.**

**One last thing: I will never swear. Isn't that great? It's CHRISTMAS again guys!**

* * *

It was the middle of winter, and it was _hot. _He was melting.

It took a steady stream of water pouring from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose for Jack to realize that in this case, the common phrase was quite literal. Alarmingly literal.

Note to self: NEVER be a winter spirit in the heat. Because what's _warmth_ in reality can quickly turn into your fiery death. Or (the wind set him down carefully on the barren ground—ground which immediately became a puddle)...your watery grave.

And when you can't _help_ but be a winter spirit and no matter how hard you tried nothing you did to not be one worked (performing rain dances, trying to change his personality by being nice—yeah, right—,sleeping like a bat, wearing shoes—which went along the lines of changing his personality—tripping over a brick—which he _totally_ did on purpose—, befriending a pack of squirrels that turned out to be rabid...did squirrels even _live_ in packs? They certainly did if they wanted to draw out battle plans to get you in your sleep...which these particular squirrels did...no more sleeping upside-down...)...

Wait, what?

And when you really, truly could not help being a winter spirit...

Well, you try not to melt.

But right now he could make his own lake if he continued to simply _stand_ here thinking about squirrels like a...simpleton.

Jack shook away these thoughts that were more likely than not a result of 300 years spent on the edge of insanity, being invisible to everyone and doing strange things, but most of all _thinking_ strange things because you had no one else to talk to but yourself and no one to stop you from thinking or saying completely idiotic run-on sentences that stop you from keeping yourself from melting...

At this point Jack thought that even his _mind_ needed to take a breath. And a break. A looong break.

Jack finally made it to his lake—not the one currently water-falling from his face—,dropped to his knees with a squeal of delight (a _manly_ squeal, thank you) and face planted into the water. Cold, ahh yes.

It wasn't enough.

After a few minutes of not drowning but appearing to do so (how could he drown? He'd turned into a human fountain and he wasn't dead)_,_ Jack rolled onto his back to glare at the sun and give the back of his head a well-deserved soak. When was the last time he washed his hair? He grabbed up the staff by his side that was apparently sun bathing (the traitor) and pretended to stab _the glowing orb of_ _heat that melts you from the inside out and makes you vomit a lake_ with it—"Die sun."

As happy, fluffy white clouds rapidly covered the offense—it was the middle of _winter_ for crying out loud, what was Summer thinking?—and the power of its light dwindled, Jack made haste to reassure the orb. You know, just in case it was sentient like Manny and decided to call up Karma sometime. "But you know, don't really die—if in fact you can die—you're great, just not right now. So go away. Please. Come back another day. Just not right now. Or tomorrow. Or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next...I'm not really in the best state of mind right now, if you could just ignore me. I'll try to do the same." Then he had to roll back over because water pooling in your mouth was not fun. He should know. He was the guardian of fun.

As the sun winked it's last goodbye, it **SNOWED**. Not just snowed. It **SNOWED. **And believe Jack when he says, there is no other way to put it.

And it was cold. To Jack, at least. To anyone who wasn't a winter elemental it was **COLD** and nothing less.

Good news: there would be no second lake in Burgess. Though Jack liked to wreak havoc on the poor town he had limits. The lines were drawn at drowning people, and...well, he'd think of something else later.

Two hours passed before Jack emerged from the lake, stretching like a cat after a nap, with an impressive layer of ice over his face. The mask cracked and fell off when he tried to stand up and tripped over some random bric—uh, **HUMONGOUS **protrusion that popped out of **NOWHERE **and attacked him like a _**NINJA**_. He was lucky to be alive!

Jack got to his feet (success!) and breathed in the wonderful wintry air. Wow...snowflakes up the nose.

He twirled his staff, causing the snow to fall just a bit harder, and struck a pose. Not really a cool one, in the sense of awesomeness, because hey, it was a whiteout. Why not?

Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread over the spirit's face. "Hey, wind!" Jack called out. "...snowball fight?"

He should have known better, really.

The wind quit roaring for a split second. Jack felt fear. Then the wind continued to howl and toss the storm about, and for a moment the boy thought he was safe.

He thought wrong.

In the midst of the storm Jack swore that he could hear a faint rumbling sound.

Foo...fahhRRRRR...FFFMmmm...BRRRRRRRRRR!

He never saw it coming. And Jack had to admit, even as a winter spirit, brr was right. No, it was BRRRRRRRRRR! The towering wall of snow rode the wind right over the boy, like a furious white monster swooping down on innocent prey. When the storm let up and people forced their way out of their snow-blocked doors, the kids used the mound for sledding for weeks. And Jack remained buried there for just as long.


	2. SnowPooka!

**This story has found some direction. From now on it won't be so insane and hard to understand, that last chapter happened only because Jack was delirious. Don't expect updates to always appear so soon. And I've tried to do Bunny's accent in this chapter, but I'm not so sure how well that worked out. Please tell me if there's anything you think I need to change, or if I should just forget writing out the accent and let you guys imagine it in your heads as you read.**

* * *

"Where are ya you bloody dill?"

No answer.

"...Quit messin' around and come out Frostbite!"

snip. Frr...creeee—CRACK!

A mound of snow found its way onto the Pooka's head. It was almost enough to knock him over. Almost. But he was a proud warrior, 6'1, and nerves of steel. Bunny growled and shook himself like a wet dog. He raised a paw to the sky and started shaking his fist at it. "Alright Frostbite, you've got exactly five seconds to get yer pale backside down here-oomph!"

More snow than before followed the broken pine branch and successfully buried Bunny up to his ears. 6'1 to the bottoms or tops of his ears? Who knew. The wind giggled in passing. It was a Snowpooka!

Bunny shook himself once more and came out shivering. "I-i'm go-gonna k-kil-kill that kid."

_Not if he dies on you first_, a winter fox kit chirped as it skittered into its burrow. Bunny heard it, but couldn't understand it of course. He hopped slowly through the snow, glancing up at all of the trees, looking for Jack and sagging branches simultaneously.

The Pooka's nose led him around the lake to a tall mound of snow. It was marked by sled runners, boot prints, and snow angels. "Looks like Frostbite had a ball over here. Typical," Bunny grouched. "And we're waitin' at the Pole, freezing our feet off, fer a kid that doesn't bother to show 'is ugly mug for three weeks straight. Bloody perfect."

Bunny looked closer at the hill. Not only was it marred by kids' tracks, but it also smelled like Jack. What does Jack smell like? You don't want to know.

Bunny almost turned around and left, assuming that the reason it smelled like the little wayward ankle-biter was because the boy had spent a lot of time playing with the kids on it, but there was something _off_ about it. Maybe it was that above all else, _this_ happened to be the thing that smelled the most like Jack. Stepping closer, the warrior toed the hill. Nothing happened. Perhaps he was inspecting it for...escaped live gingerbread men? Or maybe he thought it was a sleeping beast and was trying to see if it would growl at him. But no, unknown to Bunny, that beast was _inside_ the snow and would bite his toe off before it got close to touching him. Who knew where Bunny's toe had been?

Bunny thought hard. Bunny did not think long. Bunny was not patient.

The Pooka scratched his ears. Maybe if he stared at the mound a little harder it would tell him where Jack was.

Bunny shrugged and began to move away. He didn't get far. The wind stopped flying around long enough to slap the great warrior with a swift cold snap. Right on the nose.

Bunny yelped and brought an arm up to rub at his poor nose before resuming hugging himself. The wind swirled around him in frustration then attacked the hill, causing snowflakes to skeeter off its surface. She would push the snow off Jack herself, but it had become hard and packed; difficult to move for a being without hands. Unless erosion was your thing.

Some say maybe all of the planets aligned just right. Others will tell you it was the one stroke of genius imminent in every idiot's life (don't tell Bunny that. His feet may smell like a zoo but he can _kick, _the kangaroo). Whatever the reason, something between Bunny's ears (or under them?) started whirring like never before and then he _knew_.

"Crikey..." Bunny grumbled, then raised his voice to shout. "Frostbite! If you can hear me and are ignoring me I'll have you cleanin' the Pole from top to bottom with a toothbrush!"

There was no response, but Bunny was not expecting one.

"Alright then. We'll do this the hard way Frostbite." Unbeknownst to Bunny, the same slow grin that often crossed Jack's features began to spread over his own face. "Let's have some fun..."

The wind looked away. The fox cringed in its burrow and covered its eyes with its fluffy tail.

And the sun...

For the first time in weeks the sun peeked out from its cloud covering and seemed to lean just a little bit closer.

With two stomps of a furry foot the hill began to collapse like a sand castle. Wind held her breath. Then the entire thing suddenly disappeared into the ground, swallowed right through the hole that had appeared beneath it in the blink of an eye. If Jack was in there then he wouldn't even have time to scream. The rumbling died down and the hole knitted itself back together from the outside-in like a monster closing its mouth after a hearty meal. A single white poppy pushed its way through the earth. "See you at the Warren, mate," Bunny said dusting his paws off in a self-satisfied manner and hopping through another hole.

* * *

Bunny was in his Warren. Bunny was in his Warren and there was _snow_. LOTS of snow. He stared at the crumbled white mass blocking the tunnel.

This was not Bunny's main concern, although he could have slapped himself for making such a stupid mistake. Why the Warren? Why not somewhere else? He stepped through the mess until he found what he was looking for. An unconscious Jack Frost. Not a _dead_ one, mind you. Though, the boy certainly had that appearance; limbs flopping every which way, twisted into and over himself in such a way that he looked as if he possessed no bones. Bunny shivered, and not from the cold. Don't tell anyone.

The Pooka warrior picked the winter spirit up, who immediately flopped like a partially melted marshmallow. He shook him a little. "Frostbite? Snowflake? Come on—wake up mate." Jack didn't so much as twitch. "Tooth'll kill me for this."

Bunny took him through the Warren to a guest room, settling him down as gently as he could on the nest when Frostbite's weight seemed to be gravitating everywhere but the comfy bedding. Jack may or may not now have a small collection of bruises, but that wasn't Bunny's fault; the little rag doll made _himself_ bump into those corners and tables and chairs and fences and egg golems and rocks and trees...shut up.

Bunny sent the egg golems to start cleaning up the snow while he assessed Jack. He wasn't knocked out because of that ride through the tunnels, was he? No. The motley of bruising did not reach Frostbite's head, the only part of him surprisingly that had been spared. He wasn't warm, so he didn't have a fever. Impossibly, Jack was even colder than he usually was. His skin had a faint grayish pallor, and frost spider-webbed every inch of his body. Maybe that was the problem; could Jack get _too_ cold? Ugh—Bunny didn't know anything about winter spirits. He should just deliver him to North and the yetis. The others had sent him to find Jack anyway, claiming that they were all SO very busy. In fact they all were, but they had chosen Bunny to track the spirit down because he was the best at it, being an animal and all with heightened senses (blah blah blah) and they would want to see the boy, though preferably in better condition than this, but you can't always have what you want.

Bunny continued to feel around Jack, trying to find what could possibly be wrong with the boy _this_ time. For all his agility and grace, Jack could be the epitome of clumsy, even with 300 years of experience to back him up. He would trip over bricks, and elephants, and cats, and _air_. He would fly into walls, moving traffic (still wasn't used to cars), streetlights, and _cows_. For some strange reason, this last thing was the most frequent occurrence. Jack fell down stairs, ran into doors, bumped his gangly limbs on _everything_, burned himself in North's kitchens no matter how many times they told him to stay _away_ from them, once nearly lost his hand to an upset giraffe, and was famous for crash landings. Honestly. One had to wonder how he managed it.

And right now, Jack looked as if all of his stunts had done him in at last. Except there was no _evidence_ of anything that could have finally offed the kid. Despite appearing to have stolen his clothes from some unsuspecting hobo, he looked perfectly fine. He was just completely unresponsive without a reason. Asleep maybe? Bunny had to wonder.

Wait, that was it! Bunny had seen this kind of behavior from Jack before. When he was hibernating. Except—Bunny's ears drooped. Except Jack only hibernated in the Summer, when it was far too hot for the winter spirit to do anything else. It was nearly December.

Bunny, upon finishing his thorough investigation and finding nothing that could have caused the boy's condition (nothing obvious anyway), decided that he needed North's help. "Alright kid, I'm going to fetch North and see what he and his yetis can do for you. I'm afraid you might shatter if I try to take you to the Pole-Tooth really would kill me then." Bunny fluffed up Jack's bedding and made him as comfortable as he could. All the while Jack's face remained blank and...dead. "If you wake up before I get back, I'll dunk ya in the dye river."

With those parting words Bunny found a tunnel and headed at top speed to the North Pole. Meanwhile, Jack was beginning to stir. And when he awoke there would be chaos.


End file.
